Chapters
by BlinkByou
Summary: The books of our lives are made up of thousands of chapters. Each new chapter is no more better nor more important than the one that came before. AU, multiple pairings, one shots
1. Red Hair

A/N: This story is a kind of like doodle. I write little stories like this to get inspiration for longer stories. I have a lot of little stories like this stored all over my computer and decided I might as well upload them. I'm currently writing the next chapter for Coasting, if any of you care to know.

These stories that I post won't have any relationship to each other. They are simply little sketches, little plots that I've played around with to get inspiration. I titled the group, Chapters to simply mean chapters from certain characters lives. They're basically a bunch of one shots grouped together. Mind you, they are not perfect. If they were to be developed into real stories, I would do a lot of editing. But as one shots, I believe they stand alone ok.

Anyway, I hope you like these little stories. :)

Her hair was the first thing that captured my attention about her. Long before I knew her name, I loved her hair. Her locks are so unique, so different. Many people told me her hair was ugly when I first mentioned it in adoration. It still infuriates me to think that anyone would call anything about her ugly. She's the most beautiful person in the world to me.

I remember the first time I saw that hair. I was sitting in a lecture hall on the first day of classes. I was a junior, taking the class as a requirement for the degree in marketing I was pursuing. She was a senior, taking the class for her minor in general business. When she walked in, all I could feel were the butterflies fluttering in my heart. She looked over at me and smiled and all I could do was push my thick Ray Ban glasses up like the ultimate nerd. She went and sat in the front of the room while I was seated in the very back.

I didn't speak to her that whole semester; I only stared at her hair. I almost failed the class and had to repeat it due to her locks. I couldn't gather the courage to speak to her. She was a class ahead of me, more mature and probably uninterested in a guy a year younger than her. I kept my attraction to her to myself and my best friend, Riku. The next semester I was taking another marketing class, and there she was again, sitting in the front row as I arrived to class the first day.

"Hi." She said, smiling at me brightly. I did what I did the previous semester. I pushed my glasses up on my face like a socially awkward nerd.

"Um, hey." Was my weak response.

We didn't speak again for the rest of the semester. On the last day of class, her last day of school as she graduated a week later, we bumped into each other on the way out of the room. We quickly apologized to each other and then stood there awkwardly. She smiled at me and tucked a lock of hair behind her eyes. I lost all control of my mouth and let out what had been on my mind 24/7 for the past year.

"I love your hair."

The minute those words escaped my mouth, I wanted to die. I wanted to melt into the floor, be shot in the head or be hit by a rude passer buyer. Anything. But of course, most wishes never come true. So I stood there and pushed my glasses up my nose.

Her reaction was far from what I expected. She blushed. Well, I kind of expected that. Anyone would blush, whether it be in happiness or embarrassment. But then she smiled at me and twisted a lock with her pinkie finger. I wanted to kiss her.

"Really? That's a first." She said, with a hint of sadness in her voice. I remember feeling angry at that answer. I couldn't understand why no one had ever complimented her beautiful red hair.

We started talking then, her more than me. I was nervous and feeling unworthy. She was vibrant and energetic. She sat down on the bench outside the door and I followed. She told me about graduation and her fears about finding a job. She asked me what year I was and I begrudgingly told her I was junior soon to be senior. She didn't make a comment about it.

She and I sat there for hours. My last class of the day blew by and I didn't even notice that I had missed it until I got home that night. She told me about herself and I listened, never taking my eyes off her gorgeous red hair and equally gorgeous blue eyes. Somewhere in our conversation I invited her to coffee. To my utter surprise and happiness, she accepted.

We started our relationship slow. At first we were friends. For a whole year we were just friends. My graduation was when we first admitted our feelings. We had broken away from the crowd that included my parents and other close friends. It was like a breath of fresh air to wander around the college gardens alone with her. It started raining in the middle of our trek, and in effort to be a gentleman I offered Kairi my graduation hat. She had laughed at me, but took the hat and promptly placed it on her already soaked hair.

I couldn't resist it. The look of her in that pretty white summer dress, soaked to the bone and smiling with my graduation hat on her head was simply gorgeous. I remember leaning in and kissing her without a nervous thought in my mind. We must've made an interesting site, each of us wearing a piece of a graduation suit standing in a thunderstorm kissing. My locks fell to my shoulders and flattened against my head, my graduation robe soaking up the rain water like a towel. None of this bothered me, though. That kiss was _perfect_.

We pulled away, both of us unsure of what the other was thinking. Then, as if on cue, we both started laughing. After quieting down, she smiled that gorgeous smile of hers and laid her head on my shoulder, her wet hair brushing the tip of my nose. God her hair was so beautiful, even while soaked. I tentatively ran a hand through the wet locks and she shuddered against me.

We stayed there, kissing every so often for god knows how long. The next day we both had colds.

It's been a year since then, and I couldn't be happier. We both have extremely stressful jobs, but we always find time to sit together and show our affection. Today we're sitting together in our newly bought penthouse, watching the rain beat against the floor length windows. The lights are dimmed and she's sitting in front of me, her head slightly bent backward.

"You're so good at this, Sora…" She tells me with a sigh. I smile and continue my ministrations.

"You know…this was what first sparked my attraction to you." I whisper in her ear, running a hand through her silky dark red hair. My fingers tingle at the feeling. Every time I run my fingers through her hair it's like the first time I've ever done it.

"Really? I would've never guessed…" She playfully teases. I smile again. My attraction to her locks is pretty obvious, I admit. I'm constantly touching her hair. One of my favorite pastimes is to wash her hair for her when we shower together. It's very intimate and sensual.

I reluctantly remove my hands from her hair and place them on her shoulders. I knead the muscles in her back gently, being careful not to push too hard. In her current state, everything must be gentle and careful. It's not like I wasn't gentle before, though.

"Mmm…Sora." She moans breathily. I hold back the urge to turn her and around and ravage those plump lips of hers. Careful Sora, careful.

"Feel good?" I whisper, running my hands down her sides.

"Amazing." Is her one word answer. The storm picks up outside as a run my hands over her swollen stomach.

Three months ago, Kairi had told me the news in a situation similar to the one tonight. I was giving her a neck massage when she quietly told me she was pregnant. I still can't explain the feeling of utter happiness and terror that overcame me. We are young, Kairi only 24 and me 23. Neither of us wanted to have children until she was at least 26. But our little son decided to show up earlier, and to be honest, I can't be happier.

Kairi sighs as a rub soothing circles on her growing stomach. In just four months, he'll be here. Both of us are scared and nervous on our own, but when we're together those feelings just disappear. We know that we can only do this together, never on our own.

"Sleepy?" I ask her, returning to running my hands through her hair.

"Yeah…" She says laying back completely against me. In a few seconds she's has dozed off to sleep. I can't follow her, though. This moment right here is perfect. Here I am, my beautiful wife sleeping in my arms with our unborn child growing inside of her. What could be better? I don't want to leave this spot.

I'm content with running my hands through her gorgeous hair for the rest of the night. Sure, I'll be cranky at work in the morning, but who cares. We should live for the moment.

And I definitely will.


	2. Paper Cranes

A/N: Origami has always fascinated me and I love creating it. It's a very fun hobby. I wrote this little story after folding a couple of cranes. The cranes reminded me of the Thousand Paper Cranes legend which I love, so I got inspiration to write a one-shot based on it.

***For all of you who dislike slash, don't read this chapter. My stories will have a mix of heterosexual and homosexual couples. More so on the heterosexual couples (Because I'm heterosexual and that's what I know best). If you don't like or agree with homosexuality, don't read it.

Thanks so much for the reviews. I'm glad a couple of you still remember me, haha. I really need to get back to writing. I miss it.

XX

They said he was unmanageable. A wild, arrogant child who had never heard of the word obedience. He was passed around monthly. He had few belongs. Two changes of clothes a stack of colored paper and a lighter. He gained a reputation as a troublemaker within the foster care community, and few people were willing to take him in. When my mother told me we were going to have someone staying with us a few months ago, I didn't know what to expect. My parents had always wanted to do foster care. My father was a foster child himself and desperately wanted to care for a child in a situation similar to the one he was in as a child.

The day he arrived there was a blizzard. School was called off and everyone remained indoors to escape the bitter cold. My parents had bared the weather though to pick up their foster son. I nervously cleaned and re-cleaned every room of the house while awaiting his arrival. He was to share a room with me and I wanted to make a good impression, so I cleaned my room from top to bottom.

When he arrived, I couldn't make my throat work. He was so unique looking. His fiery red hair untamed, he piercing green eyes reminded me of emeralds. He didn't speak to me. He barely answered my parents. I could literally feel the anger rolling off him in waves. He was so _angry_.

He never talked to me. If I annoyed him, he'd shove me. If he annoyed me, I spat at him. My dislike for him came easily. He had ruined what once was a happy home. My parents became stressed and emotional, especially my mom. They started to ignore me. Instead of talking to me, they would spend all their time trying to get through to him. I started to envy him. I started to hate him.

One day I came home to my room in shambles. When I asked him why he had wrecked the room, he merely smirked at me and started puffing on a cigarette. A few days later he ran away from home. My parents were frantic trying to find him, my mother in tears and my father pacing. I couldn't sympathize; I had grown to despise the redhead known as Axel. However, after seeing how much my parents cared for him I decided to help.

I set out after school one day, checking the local hangouts and gathering places that the teens of the town usually were. I checked the grocery stores, the mall; the café's and even business places like the post office. I didn't find him. On the way home I decided to try one more place, the park.

I found him sitting in the snow, burning little pieces of paper. I hesitated upon approaching him. He was an angry teenager and angry teenagers do bad things with lighters when they're mad. However, I needed to bring peace to my home. My parents needed to know where he was. I had to bring him back.

He didn't look up as I approached him, he ignored me. I noticed that he was shivering horribly. He was wearing a jacket, instead of the much needed winter coat, and his worn out chucks could never substitute for a pair of warm, fur lined boots.

"Axel…we've been searching everywhere for you." I told him, kneeling down in the snow next to him. He didn't answer me. He continued to burn the little pieces of paper that I noticed were little origami cranes. There was a pile of about a hundred sitting next to him. I was in awe.

"What are these?" I asked, picking one up. He snatched it away from me and scowled.

"They're mine." He snapped, placing the crane back onto the pile.

"Well I know that…" I started, feeling both a little confused and annoyed. I didn't understand why he was he being so protective over little paper cranes. "Why did you make them…and why are you burning them?"

"Because I can." He snapped again, taking a crane off the top of the pile and lighting it. I watched in a somewhat morbid fascination as the paper burned on the snow.

"There has to be another reason…" I prompted, as he grabbed another crane.

"Leave me alone." He muttered, burning the little white crane. He grabbed for another one but I grabbed his hand before he could pick it up. He looked up shocked. It was as if it were the first time he was touched. He locked confused eyes on me before jerking his hand away.

"Go away." He growled.

"No." I don't know why I just didn't leave. I didn't like him and there was no reason for me to stay when he wanted me gone. But something in my heart told me to stay. Something deep down that I still haven't figured out to this day. Something told me he needed someone to _stay_.

"What the fuck do you want?" He snapped then, lighting three cranes at the same time.

"I want to know why you're doing this…just tell me why and I'll leave."

"I don't have to tell you anything. Just go tell the police and your stupid parents that I'm here. That's what you're here for isn't it, to find me and bring me back?"

Well, yes I was. But I didn't feel like running to tell my parents anymore. I wanted to figure Axel out. I wanted to know why he was burning those cranes.

"No, I just want to know why you're doing this…" I stated, daring to pick up one of the little paper figures again. Axel glared at me but didn't snatch it away that time. I examined the little object in my hand. It was far more intricate than the average paper crane. There were so many details, so many small things that added to the beauty of the object. They had to have taken a long time to make and I couldn't understand why Axel would burn them.

"When I still lived with my parents I folded a thousand cranes…" I glanced up when he spoke. I wasn't expecting him to talk so soon. I was expecting him to fight. But taking in his appearance, he didn't look like he had much fight left in him. I suddenly noticed that his eyes were red from crying, his hands were trembling more so than the rest of his body. He looked hurt and scared, and also a tad bit annoyed. But the anger, the usual anger that I had come to associate him with, wasn't there.

"Every time they'd hit me…I'd fold a crane. Every time they burned me, kicked me, locked me in a closet for days…I'd fold a crane. My teacher told me that if I folded a thousand cranes a wish would come true. She lied."

I didn't know what to say. My parents had never told me about Axel's past. I thought that he was just an angry and rebellious teenager. I would've never guessed he was abused. The children in my town were loved. Abuse was rare where I live. My parents had never even spanked me. How could have I known? All I knew was that I felt horribly sad for him. My heart ached for him, that much I knew.

"My wish…was for them to love me. The last crane I folded I gave to them. But they burned it and then they beat me and left me to die in the snow." He finished the last sentence with pure hatred in his voice. He angrily grabbed two cranes from the pile and burned them.

"So you do this…why do you do this? Because they burned your last crane?" I asked him softly, searching his emerald eyes. His beautiful, broken emerald eyes.

"No…I'm burning a thousand to take back every wish I made on their behalf…every hope…" He whispered the last part, dropping the lighter on the snowy ground.

I didn't hesitate to wrap my arms around him. My parents always showed their affection in hugs, so I would do the same. I pulled him into my arms, despite his protests, and held him there. He finally gave up struggling and gave into the warmth a few minutes later. Then he cried. I rocked him like my parents used to rock me when I was young. I ran a gloved hand through his spiky soft locks. I did everything I could to comfort him, because I didn't hate him anymore. I couldn't hate him.

He poured out his sorrow to me as we sat amid dozens of white cranes. Their paper was slowly melting into the ground and I watched a couple of them fade away as he cried. He told me he had never had love, he had never had real parents or a real friend. He told me he had no one. And then I told him I would be his best friend. I told him I would care for him from then on and that whenever he needed something, whether it be money or a hug, I would give it to him. As a teenager, I didn't really know what I was saying. I simply said what felt right at the moment. And to this day I'm so glad I did.

When we finally pulled away it was dark. I was freezing and he had to be worse off due to his lack of proper snow wear. He didn't take the cranes, or the lighter. I was surprised, and asked him why and he told me he didn't need them anymore.

After the incident in the park, Axel started to change. He still had angry outbursts, and sometimes he would lock himself in the bathroom and refuse to leave. But eventually those actions subsided. We built a friendship that slowly blossomed into something more. We had been playfully wrestling around our room one night when Axel abruptly kissed me on the cheek. I didn't know what to say or think so I ran out of the room. We didn't talk for a full month, both trying to hide our feelings. That kiss played over and over in my mind for so long. I dreamed about that kissed. I longed for another. Finally we broke down and admitted our feelings for each other in the same place I found him burning paper cranes two years before. He had a pile of newly made ones next to him when I found him. All white, all beautiful. We kissed with an audience of paper birds to applaud us.

Axel and I moved out of the home when we turned twenty. Two years into college and both with a steady job, we decided it was time to leave mom and dad. We also couldn't keep our secret hidden for much longer. My parents who had come to think of Axel as their own would have been devastated to learn that their biological son and their "adopted" son were in a relationship.

Our apartment is small and homey, just how we like it. We've both just graduated college, me with a degree in journalism and Axel in social work. He told me a couple of years ago as we cuddled in bed, that he wanted to help children get out of abusive homes like his had been. I told him he should go for it, and he smiled and told me for the first time that he loved me.

We have something akin to a garland in our apartment. It's made up of a thousand paper cranes. Axel folded them, of course, and has yet to tell me why. I thought he hated the cranes, but apparently not. They are multicolored, all of them perfectly folded except for the last one. The last one is purposefully uneven and awkwardly bent. He told me that the garland wouldn't be perfect without a mistake. I'll probably never know what that means.

"Roxas…" He plays with my name, kissing the corner of my lips. I smile at him, giving him my full attention.

"Hmm?" I breathe, kissing his cheek. I shudder as I feel his hands run up my back and down again.

"What are you thinking about?" He whispers, kissing me on the lips this time. I melt into his kiss and wrap my arms around his neck.

"Us…you." I gasp into his mouth.

Axel moans and pushes me down so he's lying on top of me. "What about us, what about me?"

"W-why…" I stutter, moaning softly as he bites gently on my lips. "W-why did you fold the cranes again?" I finally get out.

Axel sighs and focuses back on my lips. He doesn't seem bothered or uneasy about my question. "I had another wish…"

"Oh?" I ask, running my hands through his wild locks. He nods and kisses down my neck.

"Uh huh…I wished that you would love me…"

I freeze at this. He folded all those cranes because of me. He wanted me to love him?

"Really?" I squeak out, pushing him up a little so I can look into his eyes. He nods and runs a finger across my lips.

"Yes really. And I folded that last, the bent one, in the park we're we kissed. I didn't think it would come true so I didn't want it to be perfect. But guess what?" He gazes softly down at me then leans in, really close. I smile, as I know what he's about to say. But I want to hear him say it.

"What?" I shudder as his lips hover over mine.

"It came true."

My feelings for Axel are so deep. I didn't think they could go any deeper, but they have now. I love this man. I _love_ this man. I would do anything for him, for he is my heart. I glance over at the garland of paper cranes, gently fluttering in the wind coming from the open window. So beautiful, like our love. I smile as Axel kisses down my body.

Yes, so beautiful.


	3. Bending

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! In response to Rutger5000, I absolutely understand what you're talking about. The transition isn't as smooth as it could've been. If I were to develop the story further, I would change several things. But, because I don't intend on furthering any of these stories, I'll leave it alone. Thanks for the honest review.

This story is a short one. I got the inspiration from hearing an acquaintance talk about their hatred for art. It's a simple story, but kind of cute in my opinion. I considered making this story into a full story when I wrote it, but I couldn't think of a real plot for it so I scrapped it.

Hope you like.

XX

I don't have an artistic bone in my body. When I was little, just the mention of craft time made me cry. I hate being creative. I'm more of a technical person. I like formulas and calculations. They make sense to me. There is only one answer when it comes to math. But with art, there are so many different takes on it. It could be this, it could be that. I can't _stand it_.

I guess you could consider me a grumpy narcissist. I only love three things in life. Math, chocolate and my beautiful wife. Math is my material love. I love looking at math problems and figuring out the answer. It makes me feel successful when I solve a particular difficult one. Chocolate, well, what can I say? I have a sweet tooth for chocolate. It makes me mellow out. It takes the edge off of my stress. My wife, though, tops my other two loves by far. I'd be fucking miserable without her. If we hadn't met, I'd probably still be sitting up in my stuffy old office working twelve hours a day as an accountant. Now I own my own business…selling art.

My wife is an artist. A free-spirit, hippy, bohemian style artist. She's a vegetarian, mediates under trees, kisses plants and wild animals alike, and worships the sun. She's everything I should hate in a person. I'm an uptight, irritable, cocky bastard. I eat meat, work out on a treadmill, kick puppies, tear petals off of flowers and hate religion. I'm everything she should hate in a person. But for some reason, despite our differences, we get along perfectly.

As a couple you have to learn how to bend. You have to learn to relax and let the other be themselves, no matter how much it might annoy you. The first week living with her was almost unbearable. The first day she woke me, bright and early, and asked me to join her in her yoga session outside on the morning dew. I only joined her because I wanted to impress her (and to prove that I could do anything better than her). Well after that session my pride was severely wounded. It's safe to say I haven't participated in yoga again, and she hasn't asked me to for a reason. The second day I pulled out some bacon in the morning. I was about to bite into that succulent piece of meat when she burst into tears. I now eat my bacon in the basement. The third day I woke up at five in the morning to her frolicking around the living room with some techno choir music on blast. That wasn't about to fly. She now does her little dances in the garage. After that week, we learned to respect out differences. We made accommodations for each other's beliefs and respected each other's values. The only thing we still fight about is the meat in the freezer and the dried, stinky herbs in cupboards. Those will always be a problem.

We decided two years ago to start a business, and to my annoyance, it's very profitable. It's not that I dislike making money, because I love making money. My annoyance stems from the fact that the product we're selling is one of the few things I despise. I hate a lot of things in life, but I only despise three things: Puppies, dried herbs, and art. Now my wife is an amazing artist. Her drawings are beautiful, her paintings outstanding and her digital work is incredible. My problem with art is the idea of it. It just doesn't make _sense._ For instance, I looked at one of her paintings the other day that depicted an ocean. Now what I saw was simply an ocean. But what she saw was the world's turmoil.

"The dark color of the water indicates a hidden secret. The swirling waters represent turmoil and the sea animals you see depict the children of the world who are affected by this turmoil." She told me, explaining her picture to me like she would to a three year old.

I promptly left the room, entered my bedroom, closed the door and banged my head against it to calm myself down. I _hate_ art. It makes me look stupid.

Well now my worst nightmare has come true. I have to create something. I have to make art. You see tomorrow is our anniversary and I overhead her talking on the phone to her best friend about what she wanted. My wife is not materialistic. I have to beg her to ask me for things because she never does. She doesn't like to be showered with gifts, which is how I show my affection. She'd rather go on a walk, splash around in a pond or visit the humane society to look at the puppies (which I have to mentally prepare myself for every time.). As I eavesdropped on her conversation, I could feel the dread building in my stomach.

"You know, Namine, I really want him to do something special..." She said into the phone. It was silent for awhile as the other woman talked.

"I know, wouldn't it be romantic if he like…made me something. I know he hates art, so I don't think he'd ever do that…"

The only thing in life that would haunt me forever is letting my wife down. I love my wife; she's the most precious person in the world to me. So if there's something my wife wants, then goddamn it she'll get it. No matter how big or small that thing might be. No matter how much I might _despise_ it, I _will_ make her something. Oh the things you do when you're in love.

So here I am, surrounded by every craft material known to man, completely lost. I have no idea where to start. Should I make her a card, a collage, some sort of stupid scrapbook? Fucking hell, I have no idea. I pick up a piece of ribbon and frown. How do you join all of these different mediums together and make it look good? Does ribbon on top of paper look bad or good? And what about this ridiculous glitter? Ew, it sticks to my skin. No good.

I pick up a piece of pretty printed paper. It's a lovely design, flowery and somewhat vintage. I've seen my wife draw things similar to this paper. I fold the paper in half. Eh, it looks somewhat like a card. It's too long, though. I grab a pair of scissors and cut some of it off. There, much better. I kind of like this cream ribbon. It matches the red print, I think. I grab some glue and edge the card in some ribbon. Not too shabby.

I spend about five hours on the little card. At one point I accidently glued another sheet to the back, which I had to carefully peel off. I spilled glitter over the card twice, making me throw the little jar of sparkly crap out the window in rage. But now, I think I'm finished and well…it looks like shit.

I can feel the familiar frustration with art coming over me. The anger and hatred slowly creeps up my spine as I look at the little piece of crap. I cannot give this to my wife. This work is an insult. I stash the card in my top drawer and quickly rid myself of all things art, meaning I dumped the materials in the trash.

The next morning I wake up to the delicious smell of a meat filled breakfast. What the hell? I stumble out of the room, catching myself in my near nude state then stumble back to pull on some pants. Once I finally make it to the kitchen, my mouth drops.

"K-Kairi…?" I ask suspiciously. Is that sausage I see frying in that pan?

"Hey you." Kairi says, coming out of the pantry. Apparently Kairi didn't catch the whole modesty thing like I did. She's prancing around in a baby doll night top and panties. Oh hell.

I blush like a teenage virgin as she hops up and wraps her arms around my neck. I lean down a little to accommodate her short height before wrapping my arms around her waist and lifting her up.

"Morning, princess." I tell her, kissing her lightly on the cheek, then her nose and finally her closed eyes.

Kairi giggles and wraps her legs around my waist. Damn, it's getting hot in here. "Happy anniversary." She whispers, before licking my ear.

"Umm…happy anniversary to you too." I all but groan into her ear. "Baby…this is pretty hot and all but…I have to ask." I tell her, running my hands over her behind before lightly groping it. Hell, we might not leave the bedroom today.

"What?" She says, playfully tugging at my hair.

"Why is there sausage in the pan?" I know it's a mood killer, but I have to know.

Kairi pouts and then slides down to standing. "Well you know how I feel about meat. I won't be eating this. But…you're my husband and you eat meat. That's not going to change. It's our anniversary so I thought I'd do something special…something that I'm not comfortable doing."

My heart thuds in my chest. I know Kairi hates meat. I've seen her get ill in grocery stores when we passed the meat isle. She loves animals and would never want to harm one. So her cooking me sausage is a big thing. It's a very loving thing.

I drudgingly turn around and exit the room. Kairi calls me, sounding uncertain, but I keep walking. I have something to give her. It's embarrassing, stupid, humiliating and pathetic, but she deserves it. She deserves to have this wretched card that I made. I deserve to be uncomfortable like she is in the kitchen, cooking meat.

I open the drawer and pick up the card with a grimace. Holy shit this thing is ugly. I can't see how she would love this thing. It's like a child of four created it. But I'm giving it to her. Time to swallow my pride.

I slowly walk back to the kitchen to face Kairi's worried face. She also looks a little hurt and I feel like a total bastard for not answering her when she called to me.

"Is everything alright?" She asks, rubbing her hands together nervously. I keep the hand holding the card behind my back and reach with my other to still hers.

"Hey…I'm sorry. I was um, getting you something." She smiles at me, all traces of nervousness and hurt gone.

"Oh, well what did you get me?" She asks, excitedly. "You better not have spent a lot of money on me."

I smile and shake my head no. Well, that's a lie. She has a new car in the garage, tons of new jewelry, and some expensive perfume that took me ages to find. But in my eyes, that's only a fraction of what she deserves.

"Kairi, listen. Don't hate me." I tell her, before closing my eyes and thrusting the card in her hands.

Silence. Oh my fucking god.

All I can hear is the crackling of the sausages in the pan. She doesn't make a sound; she doesn't move to run to our room. She's just silent. I know she hates it. I know it.

Then I hear a sob. Oh fuck, I made her cry. I open my eyes to beg for forgiveness, when suddenly I'm slammed back against the counter. She has her arms wrapped around my neck again and her legs around my waist. She's bawling her eyes out.

"Baby, I'm sorry. Um, it was a horrible mistake. I know it's ugly, but it's not what I think of you. Honest." I plead with her. Damn me to hell.

"I wanna m-marry…" Kairi gasps out in between her sobs. "I wanna marry you again, Riku."

Whoa. Well I wasn't expecting that. I run my fingers through her hair until she calms down. "You really…like it?" I ask, after she smiles up at me.

"I would've never thought you'd do something like this. I always wanted to marry a guy who would make me something, and to be honest, you were the least likely candidate in that area."

I roll my eyes and kiss her deeply. Long and slow. Just how I like it. Kairi kisses me back enthusiastically, moaning my name over and over again.

My mind starts to slow down as the passion takes over until there are only two things left running through my head.

One, the sausage is burning. Two, I need to grab a certain trash bag out of the trash bin before the garbage men show up. That craft shit just might come in handy again one day.


End file.
